


Loaded Words

by foundCarcosa



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-13
Updated: 2012-06-13
Packaged: 2017-11-07 16:07:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/432996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foundCarcosa/pseuds/foundCarcosa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The fury many mistake for hatred is most often grief that still burns hot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loaded Words

The moon was high over Kirkwall when Orsino returned to the Hall, his shoulders slumped and his forehead creased. A group of younger, brasher apprentices had attempted to wreak book-burning havoc in one of the libraries, and whilst in his heart of hearts Orsino couldn’t blame them — the templars had begun cracking down with unusual force after the apostate duo, Dorian Hawke and Anders, had gained notoriety down in Lowtown and up in Hightown alike — he was still forced to dedicate hours to damage assessment and apprentice disciplining. The senior enchanters had been too fed up to assist.

He wanted nothing more than to slink into his chambers and burrow into his four-poster, but there was unfinished paperwork he’d left behind in his haste to get to the Circle, and now there was even more to complete. Procrastination made an insomniac out of him, anyway.

The first thing he noticed when he stepped into the corridor that led to his office was the shaft of light shining from under Meredith Stannard’s door.

Had it been switched, and Meredith was observing the shaft of light shining from under _his_ door, nothing would have seemed out of the ordinary — he often kept late hours. But the Knight-Commander was a strict disciplinarian even to herself — she never stayed longer than necessary, making sure to reserve time for herself. Orsino even encouraged this; the fever that sometimes ravaged her was often spurred on by overwork.

 _Perhaps she’s left the lamp on,_ but he was unconvinced. Meredith, leave a lamp burning with such carelessness…?  
Still, he advanced towards the door and reached for the knob, intending to peek in, ensure she was absent, and extinguish the lamp before retiring to his own office and the shadows that lurked within it.

The sound he heard stilled his hand.

It wasn’t a particularly loud thud, but it was loud enough, and it was repetitive. He thought of young Gareth, the apprentice, quick-tempered and easily triggered, who found a masochistic pleasure in striking his own skull against the wall until he saw red — and this memory made Orsino grasp the doorknob and swing it open.  
The air rushed out of his lungs in some relief when he observed that it was a fist and not a skull that was colliding with thick, tough wood. The relief faded when he flicked his eyes up and met with Meredith’s indignant glare.

“Do you mind, First Enchanter?” she bit out, fist clenched and ready to strike another blow to the swept-clean desk, above which she loomed with her other hand planted on it for leverage.

“What are… what are you doing?” Orsino winced as soon as the question was out, knowing her answer — and she delivered, true to form.

“Minding my business, _First Enchanter.”_

Perhaps exhaustion made him bold, for instead of taking the hint, he slipped into the office and let the door close softly behind him. If pressed, he would have said that he simply didn’t like the look in Meredith’s eye — the look of a caged saber cat.  
If Orsino was anything, it was lacking in self-preservation.

“What are you doing?” he asked again, quieter this time — _I’m not going to be scared away, and you know it_ — and perhaps the stone in her glare softened just slightly.

“Relaxing,” she responded curtly. The fist collided with the desk again, tired of being held in limbo, and Orsino barely suppressed a flinch.

“What happened?”

“Nothing at all, First Enchanter. Haven’t you something else—”

“What _happened?”_ He stepped forward, hands up and out, both a gesture of peace and an offer of succour. To his surprise, Meredith didn’t push him away with more pointed barbs, but heaved a sigh and took a seat.

“Do you know what day it is?”

“Er, the fourteenth day of—”

“I had to bury my parents this day. Both of them, in adjacent plots, all gone to the Maker or to the Void or wherever, while my blood boiled and my flesh felt like it was falling off my bones. In a cemetery full of people I’d known and perhaps even cared for.” She laughed, a sound beyond mirth and beyond even bitterness, a sound that grated on Orsino’s bones and made him slightly ill. “There wasn’t anything left of _her_ to even spit upon, let alone bury. Not after the templars were done with her.

“I should be angry at her, shouldn’t I.  
I am. I _am_ angry at her. I’m… furious. I burn with it every time I think about her. Every time!”

She wasn’t telling the whole truth. Orsino didn’t need magic to know that. Not when her jaw worked like a metronome and her eyebrows pinched together like so and her hands contracted into fists and then released, over and over. He’d seen Meredith angry, more times than he’d care to admit.  
This wasn’t anger.

“I hate her, Orsino. Just as much as I hate you.”

He’d sank to his knees in front of her before the tears could roll, and he took the reflexive slap she dealt him without affront, and when she was done he took her hands and smoothed them out and placed them in her lap, and took her face in his own, feeling the heat that flushed her skin. She cried silently, breath hissing in and out through gritted teeth, as if furious with herself for doing so, but her eyes blazed with more than fury, and against such raw emotion Orsino had to close his own eyes.

When he thought about the implication of her last words, he gathered her to him, and for once she gave no resistance.


End file.
